Nightmares
by AmazingHefi
Summary: "What are we doing here, Roy?" I mumbled, turning around to press my face into his chest and hold him close to me. Something about close physical contact in this time made me feel better. Roy/Reader Not a romance fic exactly but it can be.
1. Nightmares

**Ah, yes, I have finally written something and it is nothing else but a reader insert for Fullmetal Alchemist. I did not read or seen FMA: Brotherhood all the way (still in the process) so I hope that you will forgive me if I wrote something wrong.**

 **This fic isn't necessarily a romance fic- it is more of a brother-sister bond, but you can take it whichever way you like.**

 **I do not own FMA. I do not own you either.**

 **I hope you like this.**

 **Any comment is welcome, even those which most people consider flames.**

* * *

There were times when even the bravest of warriors stumbled and broke. Most of us of the military, before the Ishvalan war, thought of ourselves as warriors destined to bring peace and good to the people of Amestris. By the time we realized what we were doing in the war, it was too late. Kimblee blew up everyone he could, Mustang was bringing hell to the surface, Armstrong was crushing people until it became too much and he suffered an emotional breakdown. Me? I was one of the worse. I was the one sent to interrogate and find out information about the enemies in any way possible- including torture.

I did not much care about older people, they were a challenge and have lived a life of good and bad but then they brought a child barely into adolescence. The boy watched me with frightened red eyes, trembling underneath my own gaze. My heart was stuttering madly in my chest. I did not want to hurt the boy but my superiors were right there, watching me and expecting me to do my job. I took a deep breath and turned off my empathy. Soon enough, the boy was bleeding, breathing in short, sharp gasps, weeping and begging for mercy.

"The boy knows nothing." One of the generals said from behind me. "Get rid of the filth."

Orders must be followed if you wished to survive.

* * *

I lied in my bed, staring at the bottom of the bunk above me. My conscience was not allowing me to sleep- it brought terrible pictures to my eyes. I knew that I was not the only one awake at this hour. Many of us were suffering in the dark when we should be resting, gathering strength for the next day, for another battle with people who had ancient weapons and almost no modern weaponry. Sighing, I looked to my left where I knew Mustang was laying, as awake as I.

"So..." I drawled, whispering into the darkness. "Are you going to brave the nightmares or live them?"

"I think both." Mustang muttered back. The sheets rustled as he twisted in his bed and, after a snap, soft candlelight lit up his drawn face. His dark eyes were hidden in the shadows, his beautiful face pale and unkempt. "Tomorrow, I live in the nightmares and tonight I'm going to dream the reality. You?"

"I'm not even going to try, Mustang." I snorted and sat up. "Need some company in there?"

"Hawkeye would kill me." He braved a smile and I could almost see the old Roy in that quirk of the lips. "But yes."

Smiling, I stood and crossed the short distance between our beds and climbed in with him. His arms almost immediately wrapped around me the way a child's would around its favorite toy. The scent of smoke, dust and sweat lingered around him. The aroma wasn't offending- it was a thing of comfort I have came to yearn ever since we were children in Madame Christmas' care.

"What are we doing here, Roy?" I mumbled, turning around to press my face into his chest and hold him close to me. Something about close physical contact in this time made me feel better. "Today, I had to kill a child and... I just want to run away."

"One day, if I get out of here alive, I will become Führer and there will be no more of exterminations like this one." Mustang sounded confident, unwavering in his belief. "There will be as much peace as possible, more freedom for the people..."

"Right now, it sounds like a dream, an unreachable miracle. I hope it comes true."

"It will, (Name), it will. You and Riza will be by my side too." Roy whispered to the top of my head, his warm breath disturbing my hair. "Go to sleep now, I'll wake you before the first call."

I nodded against his chest, pressing my ear over the place where I could hear his heart beat. In his arms, it did not take long for me to fall asleep.

I had no nightmares this night, I did not dream at all.


	2. Comfort

(Name) knocked on the apartment door behind which the Flame Alchemist was hiding from the world, wallowing in the guilt and desperation. She knew Roy had nightmares and flashbacks, that his thoughts often went to the taboo- human transmutation. Hughes, Riza and (name) were the only people whom Roy let in, allowed them to, somewhat, comfort him. She was always ready to lend him a shoulder to cry or lean on.

When Roy opened the door and looked at her with those empty, desperate, eyes, (name) could only smile weakly at him. It was the same smile as hers.

"How... How are you doing, Roy?"

"I am fine."

"Are you still planning to do human transmutation? If you are, then you're clearly not fine."

"Hughes was here half an hour ago and I have given up on that."

"Really?" Though Roy seemed truthful, (name) couldn't help but ask. At Roy's nod, she smiled and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, chin on top of his head.

His hands were resting on her waist, fingers digging into her back and sides. (Name) could feel Roy's tears on her red blouse and skin.

"It's going to be alright." She whispered, gently rocking them. The fingers of her right hand, the one hand which stayed intact, were carding through Roy's unkempt hair. It was the way (name) could always get Roy to calm down. "You're strong and your friends are beside you. You're not alone, Roy. You'll never be."

"Thank you." Roy sniffed, raising his teary face.

"Wow, you have a leaky roof, Roy." (Name) grinned, thumbs brushing away the fluid on Roy's face. "Better patch those holes up or you'll be a permanent wet match and whom will I use as a lighter then?"

Roy looked stricken by (name)'s words but he recovered quickly. His nimble fingers, fingers which were used to snapping as much as they were used to playing the piano, wiggled on her sides, swiftly making his old friend crumble and laugh loudly, begging him for mercy. Roy laughed too when they collapsed together on the cluttered floor.

The man felt rejuvenated and more carefree than any time before in his life. That was (name)'s effect on him- she could raise him up with just a few words and actions, comfort him with her mere presence. Roy never wanted to lose her because, he admitted to himself, he would feel lost.

"Let us stay like this for a little longer." Roy muttered when (name) went to get up, taking her hand in his and intertwining their fingers. "Let us rest."

"Sure." She smiled and lied down again, draping herself over Roy's body.

The only thing they could hear and feel was their breathing and heartbeat and, in peace, they fell asleep on the floor- smiling.


	3. Realizations

"Well, well, well," (name) grinned when she opened the door of her home. "If it isn't Colonel Mustang. Finally came to fulfill your promise?"

Roy rolled his eyes as he stepped in the house, his dark eyes taking everything in- including (name)'s attire. A light black dress reached the top of her knees, the edges fluttering as she walked and the fabric molding to the shape of her upper body. Her hair was in a messy bun, few strands escaping the hold of the rubber band and tickling her face and neck. Roy had a sudden urge to brush the strands away and feel the texture of (name)'s skin, her hair.

"When did you arrive to Central?" (Name) asked, smiling.

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Oh. Do you want something to drink? I have a bottle of scotch with our names on it." Roy's old friend tempted with a grin. If he were a stronger man, he would have not succumbed to (name)'s bright smile.

-(-

"Ah," (name) sighed, leaning against Roy's shoulder. "I'm no longer cold." Her eyes were closed as she relaxed, cuddled up on her comfortable couch with Roy. "Do you need a place to stay?"

"Considering it is way past midnight, yes." Roy chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath (name)'s back.

"We'll have to share the bed."

"I'm good with that."

"Roy?"

"Yes?"

"I've missed you." (Name) admitted, turning around and raising herself to kneel beside Roy. Her eyes stared deep into his and Roy was enchanted by the focus in her orbs.

"I've missed you too and I'm sorry that I couldn't keep you by my side." Roy cupped (name)'s face with one ungloved hand, thumb caressing her flushed cheekbone. Her skin was soft despite the scar tissue.

"There's nothing to forgive."

For a few tense moments, the two just breathed before their face slowly grew closer and tiers eyes slipped closed. Lips gently touched, lingering for a minute and then they were moving. The sensation of (name)'s lips was like a breath of fresh air but it also lit a fire in Roy's gut. The fire was hungry, it wanted to devour, to protect and possess. Roy finally realized that the age of friendship has always been leading to this moment. He was surprised that he hadn't realized how he truly felt for (name) until now. Love has always been there, hidden behind Roy's ambition, affection he has only ever shown to (name).

"Come to bed with me?" (Name) whispered.

Roy did not answer but he stood up and pulled her with him. He followed (name) to her room and watched her get undressed and slide beneath a thin sheet. Silently, he followed her. His bare skin touched hers and Roy could feel the searing heat on the places where they touched.

"Let me hold you." He whispered into the quiet of the night, arms already reaching around (name).

She fit perfectly in his embrace.


	4. Time

When I found (name), she was drinking at Madame Christmas'. Her face held a delightful flush, over her cheekbones. The rosy color made her beautiful eyes pop- even though they were foggy from alcohol. Both of us suffered from the same thing- terrible memories filled with blood and death, blood and death which we caused. Sitting beside her, I told Madame to give me the same. Judging by the look she gave me, (name) was there since the night bar opened.

"Hey, Roy." (Name) whispered, slurring the words so much I could barely understand her. I was surprised she even recognised me. "Do you ever think about time?"

"I do not quite understand you."

"Ya know. That dumb saying. Something about time and wounds. I think it's wrong 'cause time sure as fuck didn't heal mine." (Name) snorted then slammed back the green alcoholic drink, immediately ordering another while slipping a banknote to Madame. "Did it heal yours, Roy?"

"No, no it didn't." I answered while I watched Madame pour (name) glass after glass. "But it gets easier."

For a few minutes, (name) gazed into the glass full of green liquid. Her lips trembled when she looked at me and the pain in those eyes of her was strong enough to bring the coldest of men to his knees. The guilt hit me like a mallet. How could I not see that (name) was suffering when she came to comfort me all those years ago?

"Take me home?" She begged, sounding beyond broken.

Nodding, I stood up and helped her stand. I threw my coat over her hunched shoulders. She looked so tiny and frail- like a flower in a storm, petals already being blown away.

The trek home was slow. When we arrived to her house, (name) invited me in. As she walked from the foyer, (name) shed her clothes. Scars littered the entire surface of her body- pink, red and white. They intersected like dozens of webs. I recognized the burns from the fire I have created.

She was still beautiful and so, so strong. Though she has seen all of her victims, though she touched and tortured them, all those children and people- she managed to keep herself together longer than I have.

I love her, that strong and amazing woman.

[It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.  
Rose Kennedy]


End file.
